


Dolorosa

by stipulativeTzigane



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stipulativeTzigane/pseuds/stipulativeTzigane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dolorosa's point of veiw of the signles's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dolorosa

You almost thought you wouldn’t fall asleep, overwhelmed by the fear and grief and the pride that wracked your mind. But you were exhausted; from running, and fighting and being marched and beat. So when a guard shoved you to the floor of the dank cell and you fell clumsily with still bound hands, you wanted nothing more than to to just lay there and sleep for the first time in days.

That was a lie; what you wanted more than anything is to sit in the grass on a summer night with your grub and watch the moons float across the sky. You lay there remembering the tossle of thick hair hiding under-developed horns. Young hands that pointed with rounded innocence at the two spheres that danced around the planet. Your grub, so sweet and innocent who wouldn’t let you squash a single spider, and purposely moved around the dandelions, because _what if they felt pain too._ that’s what you remember that’s what you cling to in the dark, dank cell. your little sensitive grub; a threat to trolls everywhere.

You did sleep, but not well. You woke up several times to the shouts of guards, and other prisoners, to be quiet, you wiped your eyes and stifled your sobs and remembered your grub.

They wake you up well before sunset rattling your cell tossing a crust of burnt bread at you. You sit up and wipe your face on the tattered sleeve surprised that there were still smudges of jade. You aren’t hungry; so they shrug and pull you to your feet with rough hands. Pushing you down father in to their prisons. Until you reach a door, large and heavy and cold. They stand you there for an moment, warning you with a serious glare before untying your hands; you stood tall, facing fate. they unlocked the series of locks that held the door closed. An ink-filled darkness slunk back away from the dull cold light of the hallway. A small, pitiful noise echoed in the dark.

The tone of your grub’s voice was unmistakable, even if it was drenched in fear and exhaustion, you spoke his name, finding a shadow defined only but the glint of light off eyes and teeth as a response. You were pulled forward by something much more powerful than guards or chains, wrapping your arms around him, felling him shudder when your arms meet swollen bruises along his shoulders and back, you let him lay his head on you and rest your arms where it seems less painful. He mumbles _mother_ again and again into your neck like he did after nightmares as a grub. They had beaten him, badly, never breaking the skin, but leaving him hurt, and miserable. You find a song hums in your throat, the same song that you used to put him to sleep, calm his worries, to make life better for a wile. He pulls away when he recognizes a song; your surprised when a troll looks back and gives you a sad, serious smile. That made you hold him closer. You tell him that you pitied him. You tell him that he was right. You tell him that you were proud. You tell him that he was your brave, beautiful, strong, little grub. And he mumbled in his broken voice that he pitied you too, that you were the best lucis that any troll had. that he was all of what he was because he was raised by you. He said he pitied you and you felt a pity so pure that it broke the quadrants; they didn’t apply to you; little did any more.

You hum your morning song, and rock him till they grab your arm. The guards come pulling you up away from him. You cling to him repeating his name, telling him your love, your false promises. He holds your hand until they pull you out of his reach and then he sits serenely, say’s he pities you, with a since of finality, that makes him look no longer like a wriggler alone in the dark but a troll facing his fate. You slump against the impossibly thick door when it closes sobbing his name, they tell you to get up but you cant here them over your heart breaking the blow comes unwarned from behind, and you cry out, already bruised and broken in any way you could think of. Behind steal and cement you here your cry echoed through a deeper set of lungs. A cry for them to stop.

You pull yourself up to stop them, he needed not to waist his energy on you. They bind your hands and push you forward out of the cold damp bowels of their prisons. The two moons feel like a false home on your skin. You look up to the orbs of vibrant light so familiar handing low in the dark sky. Over the land you are pushed to the edge of a viewing hall, your breath leaves as you take in the sight. The depression in to the ground, is tilted in towards a stage so people in the back can see from all sides, and writhing with hundreds upon thousands of trolls, sections set up between high, mid and low, so the closest to the stage was rimed with a line of violets and blue. Behind that you had a larger section of cerulean and green and a few yellows. But what stole your breath were the people at the edges they by far out numbered the other two sections. Mumbling, quietly, huddled together, they showed solemn concern, here by there on will surrounded by the high bloods, in danger, yet they risked, facing capture, and death for simply standing here, yet they stood. Harassed and bullied even now, yet they complied. Why? to see, to be witness to make sure this is not simply forgotten. That there are records of the great hope that so many will try to kill on this night, the last ring was here, massive it it’s numbers, and recording with it’s eyes, to not let that hope die, to spread it even after your grub is gone, you feel pride and thanks that threatens to drown you as you are pushed forward. The last ring goes quiet as you pass by. Sorrow in their silence, compassion in their eyes. Some reach out to you gentle hands to offer strength, your hands are bound behind your back so you cant except, but you look at them, through the tears, meeting eyes, a brown blood who seems at the edge of rebellion, a yellow blood who reaches out with shaky hands and sobs. A rust blood, barely pupated, looks at you with wide, grey pools. A soft voice whispers a word, almost in awe. It’s picked up by the people around her, they chanted the ancient word, it was from a dead language. Hundreds of uncounted sweeps back, before the hemo-spectrum, when the world was sectioned to countries, ruled by clans of color each with their own language, before the great mother grub, when trolls laid their own eggs, at home. ’dolorosa’ it referred to a female troll who gave birth and raised the grub. The higher bloods used to call to it as a ‘mother’. they sang it out in a unison, with a sorrow and love that you can not comprehend.

You were pushed forward to the second ring and are three steps in when the cries of compassion morph to discuss. Your half way though when the first thing is thrown, a piece of fruit, it misses you, but the next one doesn’t. By the time you are surrounded by high bloods, you no longer pull away from the spit, and garbage that is flung at you. you look down and push forward, hearing some where behind you the chant of dolorosa. You were pushed into the front, of the crowd, you look at the stage briefly, two poles are erected on either side. To the left is a small but hot fire, a black smith stands next to it. Your hands are untied, there is a penned off aria, two others are held aloft from the crowd. When you’re pushed forward, your grubs matesprit, heart broken and frail, offerd small thin hands that cluched yours sending silent warmth that was mached in her olive eyes. A another pair of eyes looked up from the corner, miss-matched, they glance from where there owner’s sat like a doomed prisoner. The girl a Disciple, brought your head to your shoulder, where you sobbed, and she did the same, shaking into your neck as the crowd spat, and cursed and offerd condolence. An uproar came from behind you turned to see them cry and shriek and spit, with blood thirst and pity. A troll, strong, and defiant walked proudly down the isle; you sent him all of your strength, you felt it leave you, and you collapse weakly forward the disciple held you up. In the light you could see the bright red, bruises that blushed under his shell. His lower lip was split, but his jaw was set. Against, pain, and hatred. A guard pushes him forward and he falls to the packed mud ground. Then pulled himself to his feet with infinite patience and bound hands. you called his name, as he slumped forward with less dignity than before his eyes met yours and he squared his shoulders again. You brave strong little grub. You reach out to him when he passes. Finger barely brushing against the tattered residents of his cape. A moment to feel never to grasp. He looks past you. He already said his goodbyes. But you haven’t. you realize with a shock that you have given him a life time of preparation for this just to find yourself un prepared. You want to tell them to: stop, call it off. sorry, this is clearly just a big understanding, cant you see this grub can’t possibly hurt anything? But you cant stop this. There is no possible way to back out of this like you did so many times before. And he didn’t want you to. He had told you as much, some things needed to happen. They shove him again, just before the stage. He lands heavily. Staying down, you send the last of your strength. Held up not by your own accord, but by a young troll’s shaking arms, and an unseen, but familiar force you know is from the y psiioniic child, with his head hung in the corner, unwilling to watch. Your grub’s eyes open irises more red than grey now, he laid there for a moment then pulled himself up with shaky still bound limbs. He turns to the crowd gaining his feet.

“ I have been peaceful, I have been kind.” his voice should be quiet compared to the crowd, but you watch his lips move, and the words echo through your head. The crowd silences, looking for the source, your glance to the lanky troll in the corner, strained with immeasurable force. You remembered a promise made once around a meal fire, to share your grub’s words with all of Alturnia. “I have only dared to speak what others have been dreaming for so long.” cries broke from the silence behind you cries of Sorrow, Cries of rage. “I had dreams too.” it came softer, there was a brief feeling like a memories of a dream, filled with all the sadness and nostalgia for the life he might have had if only… his head shook he refocused on the crowd. Pushing the past to the past. “ where blood was simply blood.” a guard pushed him to the stage. Your grub stumbles again. Turning back to glare briefly at the blueblood “and all of us were equal!” his voice rings angry and hurt. He was lead up the stairs, still speaking. “ if wishing for that is heresy…” he turned back to the guard with a defiant jaw. “then Yes!” he echoed. “I deserve to die.” the crowd screamed like animals you feel your throat rise to meet them a single note in the dicording song. You saw your grub being led to the center stage. “I have seen acts of the most sublime kindness. His voice was quicker panic was transmitted like white noise with his words, as his vision fallowed the poles on either side of him to see chains rattling in restless wind. “and the most vile cruelty.” he spoke calming himself. As the guard forced him to his knees, his eyes bored sagely in to his captor’s face. Working on breathing evenly, even with the flutter of panic, that was broadcast in his silence. The guard spat. And turned away in disgust your grub’s smothered and hurt and pity echoed in the minds of thousands. They spoke what he didn’t, screaming injustices, pushing against the barricades, he stayed there with his eyes closed for a moment, the thick splatter of translucent blue rolled down his cheek. He smiled smally, and shook his head once or twice, as if to remind himself he didn’t expect any less before caring on. “they say powerful beings…” his eyes opened, ringed with that red they burned in to the indigo irises of a grand high blood, who had set himself in the fount row, with a large mirthful grin. “find anger when they have no room for love.” your grub is filled with compassion “what made you so?” the high blood’s smile falls grabbing a blood stained club he starts to stand, the Empress puts a slim hand on his large arm, and he sits bitterly, your grub’s eyes move to her. “scared of change? scared of those who are different?” rage is tangible in his voice. He looked back out to the crowd, speaking to the whole now. “ I realize I am different than you…” your heart broke, you had spent his whole life teaching him there was no real difference, he couldn’t forget this now. “I have known feelings that none of you can ever hope to know.” his fear mixed with nostalgia as he found the y psiioniic who visibly shook with effort. “I have known the comradely of a friend who supported me against all odds-” the signal broke out the troll in the corner trembled and sobbed once, letting yellow tears slide down his face, as he finally meet his morail’s eyes. With effort he bent his head and gave himself back to the connection between the troll and the world. “I have known the compaction of a guardian who took me in when no one else would and taught me to dream and hope.” a haunting cry comes from some where you recognized it as your own only when you run out of breath. A wail of compassion rises behind you as you try to pull air in to you broken lungs, push blood with your broken hart. His eyes shift to the olive grub next to you, her head down not strong enough to see her matesprit now. His voice is much too personal for the whole world to hear. “ I have known a love and passion that transcends definition.” you are pulled down as your final support who had been clinging to you by compassion and necessity falls, she looks up, to meet her eyes, because she must, at least once more, she is met with his, soft and gentle, like a child’s first kiss in the moonlit grass. They stay there a moment. Lost in the love. A movement caches your eye. The Empress’s wrist shimmers with gold as she signals a guard from her flank. He moves to the stage. Your grub watches him speaking too quickly now. “there is no use hiding it now.” his eyes run past the crowd to see a large leather-bound black smith shift by the fire. “you can all see me for what I am.” his eyes fix on the fire, as large tongs are removed from the blacksmith’s belt. he visibly shakes as he speaks, trying to hold courage and strength in his words. “the Singles,” cuffs are pulled from the embers of the fire. “ the Sufferer,” his eyes match the glowing metal, wide and bright against the night as large steps fall on the stage. “The mutant.” the crowd screams, fear and anger and desire sound like shots in the night. The guard pulls your grubs hands unbinding them pulling them cruelly above his head, the sound of teeth gritting fills the minds of thousands. Every detail is so vivid, as his vein’s fill with hot adrenalin, his senses heighten, his body begs to fight or flight, he dose neither. Unable to speak for fear he will scream. Unwillingly focused he broadcast the small of hot leather and metal, the feeling of cold sweet down his back and the soreness of already sensitive wrist, the lack of air in his lungs, the sound of chains descending above him. His eyes are fixed on the metal angry red, a blood red. You watch as the cuffs are suspended above him as his wrist are put in to the, so there untigtend, so he can feel the heat of the smoldering metal radiate off.

The cuffs are tightened and there’s a brief moment where all of his pain is forced in to the minds, screams sound across the world. It’s was un bearably hot, pure pain, blazes through your veins, your grub arches his back as sparks fly from the y psiioniic the connection is broken, the boy shutters collapsing further in on to himself, the pain for you and so many others stops, for a moment wile the yellow blood collects himself digging fingers in the dirt, as he tries again, the pain for the rest of you is dulled over, but his is not, he doesn’t scream, he wont give them the satiation, red blood ran down his arms, matching tears falling from his face, you could taste the blood, in his mouth were he was biting his tongue. A ragged breaths are pulled in through his noses, transmitting the revolting the smell of his burning flesh before he opens his mouth and producing a soul wrenching moan. Speaking now with a broken, labored voice. “my blood **BURNS** bright for all to see” he shouted now, focusing on each word as it left his bruised lips to distract him self. “it is the **FLAME** of a revolution that you can never hope to **Quell** ” His voice breaks, it seems like he’s begging that last word, his gritted teeth are tinted red. “My memories can be erased. But my ideals will never **DIE.** ” he slumps forward, the muted pain, spikes as his full weight pulls against the cuffs. He jumps trying to relive him self, his red rimmed irises looking into the crowd. “my **mistake** was believing I could change a world **infected** by hate and corruption. “ he spat angrily, “you’ve taken the **freedom** of an innocent troll and turned his blessingsin to a **curse-** ” the y iioniic sparked again, the connection crackling, as yellow tears slid out of the boy’s eyes. “the **pity.** ” he spat it sarcastically. “you have taken on my disciple will wound her. She has known true love and you forced her to a life of **solitude!** ” he pulled in a quick hot breath **“forced a mother to watch her son to DIE** ”

The words pulled you forward. Your son your grub in so much pain, calling out for you. You broke threw the barricade, reaching out. He did not look down; too caught up in his own pain to see you r offer of relief. Your hand feels rough wood before your pulled down, arms tethered behind your back. Guards forcing you to your knees closer to the stage a hand holds your jaw towards your grub. “I see you for who you are.” he spat raving “I always **fucking Have!”** in his madness he pulls against his restraints. As if wanting to break them and fight “ **I thought I could Fucking Change You!”** the crowd screams behind you but you can not look to see the rebellious faces “ **FUCK me for being a Fucking FOOL**.” he pulls harder eyes setting on the empress she meets his gaze steady unwaverd. He adds more tension to the still hot metal, it bends against his blistered wrist. “ **fuck** ” his pain and anger personifies it’s self in the word “ **Fuck** ” louder this time, almost to his feet he forces the metal harder. “

 **Fuck** ” the metal clearly bends the chains too taut “ **FUCK** ” he pushes to his feet. Eyes focused on his desire to slit the empress’s throat. “ **FUCK”** he takes a labored step. The poles creak, the chains strain, the crowd cheers and cries and spits like stormy skies. A shot of pain burst threw his left wrist as a bone breaks. He finally screams, still pulling almost there another small step nearing the edge of the stairs the poles are visibly bowed, the chains stretched, the molten iron bent from the original oblong ovals to almost perfect circles.

“ **FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK** ”

There’s a twang. Your brain for a moment thinks he’s done it, but as you place the noise, you watch as an arrow sinks into his chest. He falls back numbly at the shaft, the pain simmers away to nonexistence as he ponders this new turn of events. “fuck” he sobs more mentally tired then physically hurt. His eyes close no longer in pain. “I am angry …” his voice is hoarse and soft, like your’s after a lecture “because I forgive you.” he looks up at the crowd “I may be the biggest fucking fool on Alturnia,” he looks up past them. You remember the moon are hanging above the crowd, is this his last worldly vision? That same sky he reached for on your summer picnics. The same he wrestled under with his only friend in the world. The same he watched as he stole his first kiss. Those two unflinching observers silently recording everything they knew they understood they would remember. “but when I close my eyes…” he let them slip closed now breathing slowly, evenly. “I see a world…” a feeling that can only be described as peace, fell over the crowd as for a brief moment we you could all see his world. “where we all work together.” tears of relief spilled down his face, “and it is so fucking beautiful” silence is heavy as trolls everywhere felt the same peace and beauty. His tears caught the moonlight reflecting back red and fuchsia. He breathed out once. Then slumped down onto himself.

The disciple broke first, sobbing his name. then you. The y psiioniic’s voice was lost in the crowd’s sobs. The world morns as he breaks the connection with a flash of red and blue.

No eye was dry that night. No-one slept well that night. The sick grief and gilt kept Alturnia awake. The y psiioniic’s sentence was changed instead of banished to a far off planet , the Empress clams him to power her ship, to be her helmsman. she said, with a vile smile that she didn’t know how much power he had until he broadcast those words. The disciple was lead blindfolded by an Executioner

in to the mountains and wasn’t heard of again. You were auctioned off to the highest bidder. A violent violet sea dweller who beat you for your sobs until you learned to just leak silent streaks of jade. You stayed with him two sweeps, when a cerulean pirate overthrew his ship. She made you feel better for the first time. She was so pleasant. Always so nice and lovely, her voice easing the pain as you let it enter your mind until you couldn’t tell which thoughts where yours. but the memories are always yours, in your spare moments you visited with the moons, remembering with them that little grub who reached for them for the promises they seemed to hold. It’s here alone with the moons and the ghost of your grub when the troll with the dual scars slips out of the sea behind you. You feel only that same peace, like the one that was sent to the world, as the harpoon sinks into your back. You watch with the same hazy wonder watching the shaft logged in your chest. Your eyes look once more to those moon feeling peace as they fog over.

　

　


End file.
